A Flair for the Dramatic

Chloe had a difficult day on Friday.  Nothing horrible happened to her, but everything was horrible.  I personally think she probably hasn't been getting enough sleep.  She is still my little night owl, after all, and getting up so early for school really gets to her by the time Friday rolls around.  I put her to bed early every night and she is still up for at least 2-3 hours after that.  I try.  I really do.

Tiredness + anything = Drama.  At least for Chloe.

She brought her school picture home, and wanted to know why I wasn't buying a package.  Frankly, the picture was awful, and that is why I don't buy the packages ever.  I can do a better job.  So I told her that it wasn't the best picture and that I would take a nicer picture of her.

She broke down sobbing.  "You don't think I'm pretty!  It's a pretty picture of me, and you don't think I look pretty!"  On and on.

And then I left the house to take Bria to her violin rehearsal, and left Joel to deal with the sad pile of Chloe. Apparently, she then fell apart about a completely different issue.  Joel was working on his laptop at the time, so he just typed it all out as she said it because it was so funny.

“Mom said I can’t color, ever again.  That’s why it’s the worst day ever, and all the other days are too.  Every single day is gonna be the worstest day!  [sob, sob, sob]  Because I can’t color.  If I can’t color, I won’t be an artist when I grow up because I can’t color.  I have to practice.  [sob, sob, sob].  Now I’m never going to be happy.  Even on Christmas, even on Halloween….  Why did mom say that?  Sophia gets to color, Bria gets to color, and I DON’T!!  [sob, sob, sob]  I don’t get to color and I won’t be an artist.  Mommy won’t let me color, Bria gets to color and Sophie gets to color – it’s not fair.  I want to be an artist, and now I can’t send pictures to Mrs. Gillis, or mamah and grampa, or my cousins, and I can never send it in the mail.  We never have free time at school – I’ll never be able to color again, ONLY AT SCHOOL. [sob, sob, sob].  She won’t let me color even if I color really good, even with a cast on – she won’t let me color [sob, sob, sob].  I’m mad … I mean … sad.  Now I’m never gonna color.  I want to be an artist – and now, I’ll never be an artist! … I wish she didn’t say that.”
 

For the record, I never told her any such thing.  I did tell her that she could no longer do art projects in her bedroom because she was making gigantic messes and we needed to keep that downstairs at the table.  Evidently, all she heard was "you can't draw anymore" and then tuned the rest out.

And then, we went to clean the church that evening.  I had just given Chloe and Bria some jobs to do, and I was happily vacuuming, when Chloe turned the corner just bawling.  At first I was worried she was hurt, but she doesn't cry like that when she is physically hurt, only if her feelings are hurt.  I quickly turned off the vacuum and asked her what on earth had happened.

"I touched a dead cricket!  You told me to pick up garbage, so I was, and I touched a dead cricket!!!  And I even saw his FACE!"

She didn't get over that for at least ten minutes, and then we sent her into the chapel to straighten hymnbooks and prayed there were no more dead bugs in there.

Finally, just before family prayers, I reminded them that we had a fun Saturday planned, but we had to make sure to do our jobs in the morning.  Chloe broke down wailing, yet again.

"But I need to sleep in tomorrow!"

Sigh.

She certainly got that right.